The airwaves and phone lines buzz with the efforts of communication. We are never out of touch. There are cell phones and pagers and faxes, e-mail and voice mail and over-night mail, Instant Messenger and call waiting, we are at the hub, in the loop, and we have our agendas. In the spatial distance that separates us, we reach out and touch someone. Yet often times across the table we share our meals with strangers. The lines of communication are always open, yet more is said in our silence. (From the Lines of Demarcation)
Two Days Before:
TO: Vincent Cade (VJCade@whiltshire.uk.com)
FROM: James Ellison (JimEllison@home.net)
May 5, 1999, 19:58 PST
Just wanted to touch base with you and let you know how things are going and to give you my new e-mail address. You can reach me here, it's private and at home. I hope you and Day are doing well and didn't have any trouble with that storm we heard about. It sounded like it caused some problems. Blair is doing OK, I think the reality of the situation is starting to slowly sink in. I haven't had to punish him since the cabin, but I think we are inching toward that again. He started to complain and balk a lot last night when it was time for bed. Hey, would it be OK for me to send you our list of rules that we've come up with. I want to get your take on it, make sure that you think I am doing it right. LOL Stop laughing :-) I know you say there isn't a right way, that we just have to find out what works for us, what we need, but I still want your advice. I don't want to screw this up. Give a hi to Day for me, I need to run, dinner is ready. Blair was supposed to be home 30 minutes ago and he still isn't here yet. See, like in this situation, what would you do? Any words of wisdom, oh great one ;-) will be appreciated. LOL
To: James Ellison (JimEllison@home.net)
From: Vincent Cade (VJCade@whiltshire.uk.com)
May 6, 1999 15:04
Thanks for the new address; don't want to send just anything to work. Day is fine and sends his love. I'm glad to here that you and your young man are doing well. Yes, thank you, I would be interested in seeing what you have come up with in the way of rules. It is perfectly normal for Blair to rebel against the rules, and it is normal around this time. The first couple weeks of newness have worn off, and the reality that you are in charge, that you are making the rules about his behavior and what he does, is just now hitting him. Do not worry about it; it does not mean that he is changing his mind, the feelings and wants that made him seek out a disciplinarian relationship are still there, it just takes some adjustment. Think back to boot camp, similar situation - it is just reality setting in.
In my opinion, Grasshopper :-), you need to keep your brat on a short leash, be strict and stern with him, at least for the next couple of months. He is looking for that stability, he is looking for reassurance that you meant it, when you said that you would always be there for him. He is going to start testing those boundaries that he wants and needs. It is your job and responsibility to make sure that they are well defined and when he crosses over them, and he will often right now, he is placed lovingly, but with a firm hand, back in place. Do not expect to be putting away your paddle or hairbrush any time in the near future, my friend.
As for coming home late; if this is a problem that you are trying to deal with, then you need to be strict with him. At this point in your relationship, and this can be relaxed after awhile, I don't think a minute of corner time per late minute, followed by a spanking would be too harsh. If you treat his behavior and disobedience as a serious affair, then he will too. Just remember: a short leash and a firm hand.
James, I am very proud of you for taking this on. I know you love him, I can hear it in your voice. You will do fine. You will make mistakes, but you will learn from them. Go with what feels right, trust your instincts, talk to him about his actions and his feelings. Remember that this is a joint effort. You both will do just fine. Trust is the most important thing in this or any type of relationship.
I am looking forward to meeting Blair. Tell him how proud I am of him, too. This, I am sure, was a difficult decision. He should be proud of himself for having the strength to recognize a need within him and the courage to go after it, no matter how painful the journey might be at first.
Okay, Blair thought to himself, as he started to prepare dinner, maybe I wasn't supposed to read that. I just couldn't help myself. Slamming the pots down hard on the stove, trying desperately to control his anger and his hurt, he tried to justify his own curiosity.
But who the hell does he think he is...who am I, a brat to be kept on a short leash...a firm hand. Maybe this whole arrangement wasn't such a good idea after all.
After their return from the mountains several weeks ago, Jim had requested that Blair open up a personal e-mail account for him. He said he wanted to have easy correspondence with Vincent Cade, an old army friend now living in Salisbury, England. Eagerly, Blair had set up the necessary account and password. Then he had patiently shown Jim how to use it. Never in his imagination did it occur to him that this account was a "Dear Abby" connection of How to Deal with Your Misbehaving Lover.
The opening of the loft's door brought him out of his musings. The object of his anger and his affections entered.
"Hi, love," Jim said as he hung his jacket on the hook by the door.
"Hi," came a semi-cordial welcome.
Raising his eyebrows, Jim smiled. Blair was probably a bit rankled by the dressing down he had gotten the other night for coming home late. Jim fixed dinner and had been forced to keep the meal warm for over an hour, waiting the arrival of his dinner companion.
"Am I late? Was I supposed to pick something up on the way home?" Jim asked, trying to open the door to communication.
"No," again a terse reply.
'OOOOKAYYY" Jim said cheerily, walking into the kitchen. "I think I'll take a shower first. Do I have time?"
"Yeah, whatever. You're calling the shots, man."
"All right, Chief, you want to spill it. You care to tell me what's got you so pissed off right now." Jim leaned back against the counter, legs leisurely stretched in front, arms crossed.
No, don't go there, the voice of reason edged its way into Blair's mind. You're only asking for a world of hurt with this whole attitude thing. He downshifted into low and slowly moved forward.
"Nothing, Jim. Really," he seasoned it with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
"Uh huh. I promise I'll hurry," Jim said as he pushed off the counter and planted a quick kiss on Blair's lips. The pout was gone, but a trace of its former shadow still turned the corners of Blair's lips downward. Briefly resting a hand on the back of his lover's neck, Jim gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Blair added the noodles to the boiling water...perhaps it was the heat from the pot or his own raging burn that brought a red glow to his cheeks...but either way he felt the discomfort of unresolved issues.
Setting the broiler, he cut the bread and brushed the garlic butter carefully. God knows Jim didn't need all that cholesterol. The man was a walking time bomb of junk food ready to go off in his heart and arteries at the drop of a hat. One thing Blair insisted on doing while he cooked the meals was keeping Jim on a semi-healthy diet whether he liked it or not.
Jim came around the corner. His damp hair glistened. The short army cut making him look virile and appealing. Blair looked up at the man he loved with all his heart and soul and for one brief moment he allowed the resentment and anger to ease itself out of his conscious.
Jim noted the open laptop on the other end of the table, across from the two place settings and condiments that occupied the other half.
"Lot of work, Chief?" he asked with eager interest, plans for a nice romantic evening forming in his mind.
"Some. It's not like police work, Jim. There is always a student who needs help, or a paper to be written, or an article to download." Blair busied himself in the kitchen feeling the rising anger again. The constant phrase "keep him on a short leash" playing itself over and over in his mind like a song he just couldn't get out of his head.
Draining the noodles, he threw the pot in the sink, reverberating with a loud clatter as it hit against the edge of the sink.
"Hey, Chief, ease up a bit," Jim said as he walked over to the fridge and grabbed two beers. Popping the top with a large thumb, he placed the first one on the counter within easy reach of the cook. The other popped and he brought it eagerly to his mouth, taking a long, contented pull on the cool brew.
No comment came from his friend, only the persistent movement of someone soooo busy they just couldn't be bothered by one large roommate. Shaking his head and casting his eyes upward at the total lack of response from his lover, Jim took his seat at the table, his eyes drifting again to the open laptop. Focusing in he heard the slight mutterings that had started behind him. The quickened heartbeat, the heat emanating from the body he sat mere feet from...something was definitely not right here.
Then he focused in on the murmuring, no ordinary audio could pick up, but crystal clear to one determined Sentinel. "Treats me like a child." "What gall." "I'll show him short leash."
Blair put the strained noodles on two plates. Ladling the hot red sauce over each plate, he put one dish in front of Ellison, the other down at his own place. Returning to the kitchen he slammed the oven door down grabbed a potholder and brought out the garlic bread. With jaunty care, he put both large pieces on a plate and the tray back in the oven.
Placing the plate of hot bread in the center of the table, his eyes, too, drifted towards the laptop. For one brief flash heat flamed his face as he checked the screen. Surely I didn't leave the account open. However, the blank screen only assured him it was power downed for a bit.
Reaching over, Blair made a move to put the lid down and shut down the computer, but Jim's voice cut him short. "Leave it on. I want to check my e-mail as soon as we're done."
"But, Jim, it's only wasting power," Blair said as he made the move again.
"No, just leave it," Jim insisted. I don't want to have to wait for it to power up. We'll be finished eating in a matter of minutes. You just recharged last night."
Blair knew the argument would be futile now. "Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir." The petulant line came out as though rehearsed for some sarcastic performance, excessive and dripping with ire.
"What's the matter, love?" Jim asked, carefully. "Are you still upset about our talk the other night? We both agreed that you would be home by a certain hour, unless you call. You didn't call, but you still were an hour late. I think you should consider yourself lucky you weren't spanked. I don't think I'm being unreasonable expecting you home at an appointed hour. For this relationship to work, we both have to put the other one first. We agreed, no more late nights for you right now. You get tired and cranky and run down and that hurts your health and it hurts our relationship. It’s also hard for us to work out our problems when you’re never here."
"I know, Jim, I'm sorry." Blair tried to sound sincere and focused on their discussion, but his eyes kept looking to the open laptop. He barely touched his meal, twisting the pasta about on his fork, flipping the coils in wide loops, stirring it around the plate.
Taking a large mouthful of the noodles, Jim washed it down with his beer, watching his lover. Only a fool would miss the furtive glances over at the laptop. Something's got him worried, Jim thought, and I'm beginning to suspect what.
Jim finished his meal and leaned back in his chair. "Good meal, I knew there was a reason I keep you around, lover."
"Huh? What?" Blair asked, lost in the scenario of the next few minutes. Seeing Jim in his mind's eye sitting down in front of the laptop, kicking on the screen and seeing his account open, his mail accessible. There was no way out now. Why didn’t I shut the damn thing off? he asked himself, because I was too angry, too bent out of shape with this overseas discussion about me.
Then Déjà vu…or more like Ground Hog's Day…the scene played out again. Standing up, Jim walked around to the opposite chair in front of the laptop. Sitting down he looked up at his guide, the large, worried eyes, blue and bold. Jim suppressed a smile. Even when he was angry he still loved the kid with all his heart. That Blair knew the extent of his crime was proof enough that this discipline relationship could work, he just had to instill in him the necessary will to comply.
"Is there anything you want to tell me, Chief?" Jim asked, offering some vindication, some honorable limb to swing on.
"Why, Jim? Why should I?" Blair said angrily, rising with the plates and moving towards the sink. "You know, man, you always know. You keep me on a short leash, remember. There isn't much I can do anymore without accounting to you for it." Blair let his anger boil over, dropping the plates into the sink with a loud crash.
When Blair fought for his beliefs, needed to protect, or strongly felt he was right, no granite-jawed Sentinel could dissuade him from speaking his mind or would want to. However, now in the darkness of his own mood, he realized a counter-attack was all a smoke screen. He had been wrong, and now the battle for justification raged within as well as without.
Jim took a deep breath, forcing himself not to react to his partner's anger. Calmly he said, "You are right, at this point in our relationship, there isn't much you can do that I won't hold you accountable for…good or bad. Your actions, behavior, and attitude are right on the top of my priority list. I asked if you wanted to tell me something, because you have been nervous and irritable since I got home. By not telling me,” Jim paused for effect---“if you know you have done something wrong---it's the same as lying. You will still probably get punished, but it will go easier if you don't tack on lying." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. "Now, do you have something you want to tell me?" he asked slowly, but pointedly.
Blair did not answer, instead, he stood there, arms crossed, a look of defiance on his face.
Jim stared back. Seeing that his guide was not going to confess, he said, "All right, your choice, Chief." He knew it had something to do with the computer, giving him one last chance to own up to what had happened, he made a move towards the keyboard, but instead picked up his beer.
The movement dissolved the defensive wall of Blair’s defiance. The last chance to open the door and put his foot in before he locked himself out. With a small cry, he blurted out, "Jim, I'm sorry. I was working on the computer when your e-mail sounded and I opened up and read it without really thinking about what I was doing and I'm sorry. I know it was a personal letter between you and Vincent, but I just got sucked in and read it. I'm sorry."
Jim nodded slowly, suppressing a smile, he knew when he had heard Blair muttering about a "short leash" that he had probably read an e-mail from Vin. It was vintage Cade, commanding and intimidating and a force to be reckoned with. "Thank you for telling me, love," he said, standing up and motioning for Blair to come to him.
Reluctantly the younger man came out from the perceived safety of the kitchen and slowly walked toward his lover. Coming to a stop in front of Jim, Blair looked down, finding something of interest on the floor under his feet.
Strong arms pulled him closer and into a tight embrace. Instinctively, Blair reacted by relaxing into the security he found there. Holding on to Jim, finding reassurance in the embrace, he confessed, "I'm sorry for what I said, I don't know what got into me. I just read your note and it just made me so mad that you would think of me as a brat and someone who needed to be kept on a short leash and punished constantly. I'm not like that!”
Then pushing away out of the embrace, he sought the room he needed for expression. “Jim, my whole life I’ve been accountable to no one but myself. It’s hard to see yourself in the role of submission. I mean, man, that’s why I balked at the mention of the Police Academy." Then throwing his arms up in a frantic, classic Sandburg plea for reason, he peppered his situation with humor. “Hey, man, can you see me at the Academy? Me and orders, man,” then he shivered, “ah, I’m not good at ‘em.”
Looking Blair in the eyes, Jim softly laid the net over the excited butterfly, trapping him with understanding, "Love, I don't think those things about you. You are not a submissive, you are not a brat who needs to be punished all the time. I am annoyed that you opened my personal mail, but I am also proud that you told me yourself. Let me read the note and see what Vin said, and then we will talk about it. Why don't you wait for me in the office. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Okay," Blair said, and then hesitantly added, "Maybe I was wrong, Jim, but one thing I’ve learned hanging out with cops is that an eager curiosity can work in your favor. It wasn’t like I deliberately sat down with the intention of reading it. It just popped up and I, well, I….I wanted to make sure the account was working properly."
“Well, Chief, which is it? Were you checking to see if the account was working properly or were you invading my privacy and curious to see who I was writing to and why,” his voice taking on a slight edge at the lying.
“Jim, you have no right to give me the third degree here. I opened the account; I read your mail. It wasn’t something I think I should have done, but it’s no big deal either.” Blair was maneuvering into position. The position that worked best for him in most situations, the role of charming dilettante, unsure of himself, testing the waters, trying to do the right thing.
“Blair, it is a big deal. It’s a big deal because I don’t want you reading my correspondence. I know exactly who the e-mail was from and knowing that, I can figure why it would put you in such a nasty mood. That alone is reason for me to be upset with you.”
Blair stood there speechless, realizing he was being backed into a corner either way. His own anger was predicated on the fact that he had violated Jim’s privacy, therefore his Blessed Protector’s wrath negated his own, made it inconsequential. He understood the way things worked in the real world. Lord knew enough students threw it up in his face. The test was too hard, therefore they had to cheat…one seeming wrong justifying another. The student next to them didn’t bother to cover his work; it was hard not to see the answers. He had heard it all. Jim was corresponding with that Vincent guy in England---the man who had suggested Jim and Blair share the same type of disciplinary relationship he shared with Damien something or another. Therefore he had a right to read Jim’s e-mail…but it didn’t work and he knew he was wrong.
“I think I need to nip this kind of violation of privacy early on in our relationship. I realize you know my pin number, Chief, and quite frankly that doesn’t bother me. I trust you with my money and my home and my heart, but matters of communication, my private and personal communication, are off limits.”
Blair opened his mouth as if to offer another argument, but closed it quickly after seeing the glare Jim gave him.
“I think I told you to go in the office and wait for me,” Jim said calmly, but in a tone that offered little room for rebuttal.
Standing his ground, Blair considered challenging his mate. Foolishly realizing too late, the level of trust that was on the line, he nodded his head and moved off into the other room.
Jim sighed, "Okay, Vin, let's see what you wrote that got Blair all upset," he muttered almost to himself as he sat down. The screen popped to life. Logging on, he tried to read the letter not only as Jim Ellison, but also as Blair Sandburg. Realizing the hurt, the doubts, and the insecurities that could feed off of one word misconstrued, he further resolved, in the best interests of his Guide, to curb this habit now.
Blair sat curled up on the recliner they had moved into the office. There was also a desk and a floor lamp, and the newest addition to the room, one that reflected their new relationship, a hard straight back chair. When they had returned from the week in the mountains, Jim had specifically designated the office as their "discussion" room. Jim was adamant that the bedroom would remain a separate place where both of them could relax, enjoy the warmth of their relationship, and escape.
If he listened hard enough, he would swear he could hear the faint click of the keys on the laptop. Curling up tightly, he tried not to think about his upcoming spanking. He knew, for all his talents for obfuscation, expostulation and mediation, they could not dissuade his irate lover.
Getting up from the kitchen table, and stretching, Jim knew it was time to deal with Blair. After reading the note, he could understand, in some part, what had upset Blair. However, the young man was upset because he had read a personal note, written in a language and a tone that Vin had intended for him---not his lover---to read. Jim knew exactly what he meant with the suggestion about keeping Blair on a short leash even if Blair didn't.
Walking across the living room, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he would have to do. No matter how much he knew Blair had earned this spanking, no matter that it was something they had both decided on and no matter how much he knew Blair needed this, he still did not relish the idea of hurting his lover.
Opening the door, he walked into the small room. He could see Blair curled up in the large chair in the room. Going over to the straight-back, smaller chair, he sat down.
Looking up as the door opened, Blair shyly remained curled in a protective ball. Wishing with all his heart that he had not been so bold and foolish, he almost laughed. Precisely why Jim swears a disciplinary relationship is good for me---it makes me think twice, unfortunately it's after the fact.
Jim waited until the eyes once more opened and he caught Blair's attention. With a crooked finger he motioned, almost seductively, for Blair to come to him.
Slowly uncurling his legs, the younger man walked over to his disciplinarian.
"Take off your jeans," the voice commanded.
"Jim, it's my first offense since we returned from the mountains. I mean, man, don't I at least get a warning. Give me a break here, it was a natural curiosity to check the mail and see if I had set the account up properly. Plus, I wanted to make sure you didn't get tons of junk mail. Then there are the slow servers and I could…"
"Stop it, Blair," Jim said, understandingly. "Let's get it done with. Then we can talk about my further expectations of you in the role of my secretary," Jim added the last with a slight smile.
Blair hesitated. Jim watched as his eyes drifted towards the door. The calculating blue eyes were judging distance and options, but Jim also saw the resignation inching out all defiance. Nodding his head, as though coming to some agreement with himself, he took a deep breath and unbuttoned his jeans. However, as they slipped down, a look of panic flushed his face a hot pink.
Seeing all self-control and resolve leave the ashen face, recognizing the spark of rebellion, Jim went into action. Realizing he might not be able to make it any easier on Blair, but by taking over at this point, he would save his guide and himself some added discomfort. Leaning forward out of the chair, he grabbed both of Blair's upper arms and in a wobbling dance of non-compliance, he pulled the young man towards him. The jeans had fallen to his ankles and he did a two step to keep up with the force that now drew him near and finally across his Blessed Protector's lap.
"I don’t want to be spanked," he said, trying to keep the note of desperation out of his voice. "I said I was sorry, and I meant it. What I did was wrong and I know it and I'm sorry."
"Blair, I know you are sorry, but there are still consequences to your actions. Saying you're sorry does not automatically make it all better." Waiting a minute to give him time to settle down, Jim watched as Blair shifted slightly easing himself into an acceptably comfortable position. Jim reached up and pulled down the boxers. They joined the bunched-up jeans at his ankles. Blair began to kick, testing his freedom.
"Please, I really am sorry."
With his right hand resting on the younger man's bare butt, Jim said, "You are going to write a letter of apology to Vincent by tomorrow afternoon at 5."
"Ahh, Jim, do I have to? I don't…"
Jim raised his right hand and delivered a quick sharp swat to the waiting butt, "What did you say, Blair? I don’t remember asking if you wanted to."
"Okay, I'll write it," Blair agreed, minus all enthusiasm.
Jim brought his hand down again, delivering another hard swat, "You will never read my mail without my permission again. Is that clear?" Jim asked.
"Yes, I understand. Please, Jim, you've made your point." Blair wiggled, trying to direct Jim's hand to another area of concentration.
Jim kept up a steady, hard rhythm applying his convictions in the form of hard spanks to his lover's bottom. The white flesh heated under his intense interest, stinging the important lesson home to his curious guide.
"Ow! Oh! Jim! No more!" Blair started a frantic kicking now, deciding he had had enough. The jeans fell off one foot, first, freeing his legs for more passionate opposition. Now the jeans fell completely off, the boxers tucked in the folds of the heavier material, followed suit. Wiggling, twisting, kicking, Blair tried to turn around, to raise his arms as shields against the assault.
Jim stopped his punishing rhythm. Wrapping his arm tightly around Blair's waist, he pulled the smaller man closer into his stomach, anchoring him firmly with a steel band across his back. Blocking the avenue towards the target, Blair was forced to turn back around and concentrate on the floor.
Waiting a few minutes, assuring himself of his control and Blair's limitations, he brought his arm up high and started a new beat. Blair continued to cry out in short bursts of surprise at the renewed fervor, but the cries soon blended into whimpers, pitiful sobs and short gasps of air.
Satisfied in time that the reddened bottom was instructionally convincing, Jim applied a final round of five, hard, punishing slaps. The intensity of the new attack brought Blair back to a more vocal protestation. "NO! Stop! Please!"
Then it was over. Blair remained draped over the large thighs, sobbing uncontrollably. Allowing the penitent a moment to compose himself, Jim finally pulled Blair up. The lost look on his face, the confused mess of tears, heated cheeks, and running nose, filled Jim with compassion.
Taking him in his arms, he walked Blair over to the recliner. Settling himself down, he quickly pulled the stunned young man down upon his lap.
Gasping at the sharp pain when his sore bottom made contact with Jim’s hard thigh, he wiggled and squirmed trying to pull away, to stand up and leave the room.
Having none of it, Jim held him firmly in place. "Easy, love, take it easy. It's over. Just sit here with me and relax for a moment." Jim offered him reassurance and the soft, gentle tones broke through like no commands or directives could.
Blair settled himself down, nestled deeply against Jim's broad chest, and closing his eyes, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Jim. I was wrong and I'm sorry."
"Shhh! It's over. It's behind us now. Just don't do it again. You'll be fine." Jim repeated the litany of acceptance and forgiveness mixed with a loving embrace, as his spent Guide slipped off into a quiet slumber.
When Blair awoke, he found himself in bed. Vaguely he remembered Jim carrying him up to bed, undressing him and tucking him in beneath the covers. Feeling warm and cared for but emotionally exhausted and spent from the punishment, he allowed himself to be treated like a child. It was good giving up control, and although he didn't enjoy the spanking, he realized how cleansing the experience was. The embarrassment of invading Jim's privacy, the cavalier attitude towards their mutual trust, had made him uptight. He remembered the babbling attempts at justification, the foolish excuses.
Blushing, he chased the memory away. Turning over he saw Jim sleeping soundly next to him. Inching his way close, he snuggled against the large chest, pulled the covers up over both of them, and nestled his head in the crook of Jim's arm.
Then, knowing Jim so well, he softly sighed, smiling, "I love you."
"You woke me to tell me something I already know," Jim smiled, his eyes still closed, still hovering on the edges of deep sleep.
"Next time I'll just send you an e-mail," Blair said with mock hurt.
"Just don’t read it," he said, stretching with his free arm and patting the still slightly warm bottom.
"Nah," Blair said after a moment, "I think I can come up with betters way of communicating that to you."
Then with smiles creasing their contented faces, the warmth of their embrace keeping them snuggly secure, they drifted off together towards the brightness of another day.
The Next Day
TO: Vincent Cade (VJCade@whiltshire.uk.com)
FROM: Blair Sandburg (BJSandburg@home.net)
May 8, 1999, 14:58 PST
I feel I owe you an apology. Yesterday afternoon, I opened your private and personal letter to Jim. I was working on the computer when it beeped that he had mail and I got curious and opened it and read it. Jim and I got into a fight that evening because I was upset with what you had written. Actually, that isn't quite right, I got mad and tried to fight, Jim stayed pretty calm and simply punished me for opening your letter. I did confess to Jim that I had opened it. I was so mad and humiliated by what you had written, by the fact that Jim talked openly with you about our relationship. I know you are in one yourself, but this is all new to me. I don't know exactly how I feel. I don’t know if this is right. It feels right, but it also hurts to be disciplined. LOL I'm sorry, I still have a hard time actually writing out in words "Jim spanks me." Anyway, I am sorry I opened your personal letter and you have my word that it will not happen again. I look forward to seeing you in a couple of months.
TO: Blair Sandburg (BJSandburg@home.net)
FROM: Vincent Cade (VJCade@whiltshire.uk.com)
May 8, 1999, 15:58 PST
I accept your apology and word that it will not happen again. Let me add my own promise - if I ever hear that you opened another letter of mine to Jim, I will personally paddle you myself. You do not want that to happen.
I understand your uneasiness about your new relationship with Jim. My advice to you is to give it some time. This is a new experience for you, a new type or relationship. It is perfectly normal for you to have doubts. What you must not allow to happen though, are for those doubts to control you. As I have told Jim, you must trust your own heart and each other. From what Jim has told me about you, I know he loves you very much and it hurts him to see you hurt yourself. Foolish, destructive behavior, irresponsibility about taking care of yourself, showing a lack of respect for you as a person and your role in Jim's life….that is something he will not tolerate, nor should he.
I will suggest that Damien contact you by e-mail. I think you could learn much from a correspondence with him. You remind me of him, when we first got together eight years ago. Please feel free to write me also if you have any questions or concerns that I might be able to help you with.
As Jim no doubt told you - or you read yourself, let me tell you myself again. I am very proud of you. I know it takes courage to agree to be in a disciplinary relationship with Jim. It is a hard decision to make, and sometimes living with that decision can be painful as you are learning. But, I think, a year from now, you both will have grown, learned much about each other and you will barely remember these early fears and concerns.
Day and I look forward to your visit,
Thank you for reading and we hope that you have been entertained.